


I Think I Saw the World Turn in Your Eyes

by orphan_account



Series: Friends to Lovers Verse [3]
Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Booksmart (2019), House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Duncan, Bisexual Mallory, Crying, F/M, First Time, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 21:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Duncan and Gigi's first time has been a long time coming.





	I Think I Saw the World Turn in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The plot and characters of House of Cards belong to Neflix. Booksmart (2019) belongs to United Artists Releasing.
> 
> More allusions to Stucky and evidence of my Bake Off obsession. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title is from "Turn" by The Wombats [https://youtu.be/SWwfT8yyz0Y](url)

The first time they have sex isn’t planned. They don’t go out on a date beforehand or discuss elaborate role play scenarios.

Duncan thought he was prepared for anything.

He knows all about Gigi’s sex life and the things that her and Madison used to get up to. Hell, they’d been present for each other’s first blow jobs (Gigi had been the one to shove Duncan’s head down on Richard Hoffmeier’s dick when he tried to chicken out).

What happens isn’t at all what he was expecting.

It’s better.

\--

He's at a GOP fundraiser with his mother when his cellphone rings.

The senator’s daughter—_Jenna? Gina?_—who’s been trying to chat him up rolls her eyes at the interruption, but Annette smiles, so Duncan answers it.

“Where do you keep your blowtorch?” Gigi asks. Her tone is worryingly urgent. 

“I’m having a great time, thanks for asking," he says, hoping to throw her off track. "You should have come."

“_Someone _has to preserve their moral integrity while you rub elbows with those woman hating xenophobes." She pauses. “Tell Ma I said that.”

Duncan chuckles. To his mother he says, “Gigi thinks our taste in business partners is deplorable. Oh and, _vagina rights_.”

Annette smirks quietly into her chardonnay while Jasmine? squawks her distaste and struts off to find easier prey. Pleased, Duncan takes another sip of scotch and leans back in his chair, grinning.

“Seriously, though,” Gigi says. “The blowtorch! Where is it? My meringue is wilting and I am _not _landing in the bottom this technical round.”

“I thought I purged all of your Bake-Off episodes from my DVR?” Her pointed silence has him heaving a sigh of defeat. “It’s in the third drawer to the right of the stove. Don’t burn my house down.”

“Don’t be silly. You know the fire department doesn’t take my calls anymore.” 

The little noise of triumph Gigi makes when she finds the kitchen torch has something catching in Duncan’s chest. 

“Have fun at your disgusting display of wealth. Don’t drive home drunk,” she tells him.

“I’ll have mom’s driver drop me off,” he offers, rather than _I’m not drunk_. If the evening continues as is, he will be soon. “Don’t wait up.”

_**“Don’t sign over my rights to my body,”**_ Gigi sing songs, ending the call.

Duncan smiles goofily at his phone as he pockets it. When he glances across the table, his mother’s staring at him with knowing eyes. He scowls at her in response.

“What?”

Annette doesn’t say anything. She just twists the stem of her wine glass, smiling proudly. Duncan’s mouth goes very, very dry. After a moment, she reaches out to touch the hand that he has curled on the table and says, “go home, Duncan. You have better places to be. You’ve made your showing as CEO of the company. I can take it from here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft, mother. You’ve only had two glasses of wine.” The snark is an automatic reaction; a defence against the emotion brewing in his chest.

Annette rolls her eyes. “Excuse me for being glad that you’re happy.” She makes a face like she’s both extremely annoyed and disappointed with him. Bill used to make that expression.

The tightness under his ribs intensifies.

–

It’s pouring rain when Duncan gets out of the back of the town car. He waves off the driver running toward him with an umbrella and just takes a moment to look up at the sky and breathe.

It’s been a month since his uncle’s funeral and his abrupt downward spiral.

This emotion eating at him doesn’t feel like depression though, just the opposite.

When he gets up to the penthouse, he’s soaking wet. He peels his suit off in pieces and leaves it trailing behind him.

He’s down to just his dress pants when he finds Gigi in the living room. She’s standing on the couch and booing obnoxiously at the television as Steven is crowned star baker again.

_“Jesus Christ,”_ Gigi says, head swinging around to take him in. “You look like a drowned rat.” Duncan feels her eyes run over his naked torso like a caress. “A _sexy_ _rat _though. Fight Club meets Ratatouille.”

Duncan stares at her.

She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that she bought him two years ago for pride month that says “Be Gay, Do Crimes” and a pair of his socks. There’s flour on her cheek and he loves her—loves her so much.

The feeling in his chest swells and breaks.

He strides across the room, kicks the coffee table aside and grabs her by the legs to throw her over his shoulder.

Five paces and he’s in the bedroom, dropping her on the bed like a sack of potatoes. Finesse goes out the window as he all but slams their mouths together, licking past her teeth to get at her tongue.

Gigi doesn’t seem to mind.

She makes a very alluring mewling sound, bucking her hips into the press of his body over top of her and sucking at his lips.

He takes his time peeling her out of her t-shirt and socks. He goes so slowly and reverentially, in fact, that Gigi threatens to call the fire department and ask for Mr. February to finish her off if he doesn’t _hurry up and do something._

She’s completely unselfconscious in her nakedness and takes no issue with the way that he gazes at her. Worships her.

He kisses every scar, bend and ripple in her flesh; spends an eternity tonguing the bumblebee tattoo at the crest of her hip.

By the time he finally slides inside of her, she’s trembling.

“You’re such an asshole,” she snarls into his ear. “Just fucking, fuck me. _Please_.”

Duncan doesn’t listen to her. He rocks into her slow and careful with a hand spread wide at the small of her back and the other curled protectively around the back of her thigh. He takes her apart smoothly, piece by piece. Never moving beyond a languid pace.

Every sexual experience he’s ever had has led up to _this_.

This moment.

The heat of her—the intensity. It’s too much.

She’s too much.

Duncan’s aware that there are things in his eyes that he’s not sure he wants Gigi to see. He doesn’t close them though, just looks and looks at her as he presses deeper inside of her.

“You’re so—_fuck,_ you’re so good,” he breathes. “My sunshine girl, you make—you make everything better. I’ll want you always.” And something gives way then, clicks into place and he surrenders to it.

Gigi’s rolling into his thrusts with little lifts of her hips, whimpering nonsense words and praise. 

_Yes, Duncan, please, nnnh, I can’t._

He moves a hand to stroke her clit and looks right at her face. She’s biting her lip and he can feel it when she comes. Feel the rippling of her walls and the wet rush of her release. Feel the sob that vibrates in her chest.

She’s so gorgeous that tears prickle and spill from his eyes.

The soft kiss Gigi presses to the edge of his jaw does him in. He gasps his release loudly into the skin of her neck, hands spasming tightly, cradling her close.

_“Wow,”_ Gigi sniffles, squirming slightly underneath his weight. “We went full soul bond.”

Duncan nuzzles her shoulder.

“Marry me.” The words are wrecked and bleeding; raw.

He pulls back to look at her face and rubs a thumb along her cheek. “Stay. Stay here. Stay with me.”

The smile that curves Gigi’s lips says everything. She fists her hands in his hair and tugs. A threat and a promise.

_“Always, punk."_


End file.
